


Tweed

by Stu (stunudo)



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Behavioral Analysis Unit (Criminal Minds), F/M, Smut, Spencer Reid smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-20 10:33:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14259081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stunudo/pseuds/Stu
Summary: Working with a certain agent gets frustrating, time to work through it. *Quickie*





	Tweed

It was the damned vest. There were some guys that got your attention because of their cologne. There were others that turned you on because they were so good with kids. You had grown resistant to your gorgeous coworkers over time. But when Spencer wore that goddamned vest, you had to excuse yourself to splash cold water on your face. It was that hot and distracting. You imagined the texture of the material, the professorial implications.

He could just wear the vest and your daydreams would be set for an entire case. The way his hair had grown and fell on to the dark material. The edges clinging to the seams, made you think about reaching up and brushing the gentle curls over, to expose his neck. Which of course the vest accented perfectly.  
___________________  
She was wearing the pencil skirt again. She left the matching jacket off, leaving her sleek arms bare for the humid Georgia afternoon. Spencer couldn’t concentrate when she hiked up the sides of the garment, to climb into the SUV. She had such timeless style, always professional but just a little more academic than the other women he worked with.

Spencer was scratching his neck, imagining it was her pointed nails dragging over his skin. He was not used to noticing physical attributes of people besides in a case perspective: victimology, suspect descriptions or mathematical relevant features. But when she wore that skirt with the coarse threaded fabric, he paid attention.  
___________________  
You had stopped for lunch after interviewing a victim’s family. It was a small diner on the outskirts of the town where you were partnering with the local sheriff’s department. You and Reid were finishing up your meal when he leaned over to reach for the check. He had turned just so that the material of the vest brushed against your arm. It scratched in such an unexpected way that you gasped. 

His dark eyes caught yours and he nodded at you. Your breath hitched, you couldn’t help but lick your lips at his hold on you. You slowly got up from the booth, walking to the bathroom in the back of the paneling covered restaurant. Spencer left everything he had in his wallet on the table and slowly followed your swaying hips.

Once you both were in the unisex cubby, you spun, attacking his mouth. Your hands clenched at the stiff fabric framing his chest, pulling him to you. His large hands found the slit of your skirt, dragging the rough fabric over your smooth thighs. He moaned once you backed onto the rail on the wall, taking his belt with your progress. He pressed his whole body against yours. He continued bending your knees as you found you could reach the opposite wall with your heels.

His fingers slid into the deep wetness of your panties, guiding the thin material over. You whined at the hunger that was growing within you. “Spencer, please.”

He opened his eyes and looked down at you, “Yes, ma’am.” He winked and suddenly his cock was pressed against your entrance. You leaned into him, your shoulders arching against the thin walls of the stall. Your skirt’s fabric burned against your thighs and Spencer’s stomach. He braced himself against one wall, just above your head. Your fist clung to his vest along his collar bone.

The moans came without you realizing, the slapping of skin an increasing rhythm. “Fuck, you just had to, had to wear that damn vest today didn’t you?” You whispered, your voice falsetto with the rush of your climax. You glimpsed Spencer’s concentrated face crumble through your lidded eyes. He called out, thrusting as he clawed at the edges of your skirt, the thread finally giving out to the stress on the slit.

He guided your shaking legs down, as you used his arms as an anchor. He held you as if you were slow dancing. You slowly eased your skirt down, checking for damages. He fixed his trousers, bending to grab his discarded belt. “Y/N, please tell me you have another skirt like that.” His breathing slowly evening out.

“Don’t worry, Spencer, there are plenty more where this came from.”

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on my tumblr. stunudo.tumblr.com Late Spring 2017


End file.
